


Splendid Peace

by StormyDaze



Category: Original Work
Genre: Enthusiastic cunnilingus, F/M, Face-Sitting, Mild Femdom, Mild to moderate gore, more worldbuilding than I actually intended to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23745367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormyDaze/pseuds/StormyDaze
Summary: When Mallory saves Logan's life, she owns it. Logan finds that he doesn't really mind.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36
Collections: What Fen Do (Instead of Going Outside), When Death Loves Flamingos





	Splendid Peace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wyvernwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvernwood/gifts).



It’s supposed to be an easy job. Some new gang has a source on pixie dust and bliss potions, and Gaius thinks he can get them a good deal. He’ll do the talking, and all Logan has to do is stand there and look intimidating. It’s a skill that comes easy to him, tall and muscular as he is, and if he needs a little help, he can always flash them a glimpse of fangs and claws. Gaius gets what he wants most of the time by virtue of having a werewolf as backup, and as long as he splits the take with Logan, Logan’s happy to let him do what he wants.

Even when things start to go south, Logan isn’t too worried. He does a partial shift and catches one of the gang members with a swipe of his claws, and manages to sink his teeth into another one just as he takes a swing at Gaius. Adrenaline pumps through Logan’s body, the thrill of a good fight.

Of course, no one warned him that these assholes were going to have _wolfsbane bullets._

Logan takes a shot to the shoulder and goes down, although he staggers to his feet again a moment later. His claws and fangs recede, sinking back into his skin.

Once the wolfsbane is in his system, he can’t heal. One of the goons comes at him with an enormous knife and plunges it deep into his belly, dragging it up to create a huge gash through his abdomen and chest. Logan feels cold air on parts of him that should never be cold as blood pours out onto the ground. Everything is pain, pain and the cold certainty that this is how his life ends.

An explosion rocks the warehouse. Logan dives behind a stack of crates. Well, collapses, really. Same difference.

Before he blacks out, he hopes Gaius at least had the sense to run.

* * *

Logan wakes up on a comfortably squishy sofa, covered by a patchwork quilt with daisies on it. Every part of that sentence is a surprise to him. He hears the whistle of a kettle, and smells chicken soup.

Without thinking, he pushes himself into a sitting position and growls at the stabbing pain in his chest.

A small, brown hand pushes him back down against the cushions. “I put a lot of work into putting you back together,” a woman’s voice says. “Don’t you dare ruin it now.”

If they were both standing, Logan doubts the woman would even come up to his collarbone, even including the inches added by the dark, curly hair that flies out from her head in every direction. Still, he lets her push him back into the couch. She holds a mug of tea to his lips, and he sips gratefully.

“What’s your name?” she asks, when he’s drained the cup.

“Logan.” He tries to sort out the memories chaos and blood. He’s not sure how he ended up here.

“I’m Mallory,” she says, when he doesn’t ask.

She’s young, probably not older than him. Her face is round and full, and her dark eyes remind him of looking up into the sky on a clear night. That feeling that you could fall forever and never stop.

“What did you do?” he asks.

“Scared those thugs off when things started getting ugly,” Mallory says. “I don’t like them selling around here, it’s bad for the neighborhood. Found you in the warehouse, looking pretty bad, so I summoned the wolfsbane out of your blood and then cast a very difficult healing spell.” She says all of this very straightforwardly, as if it were ordinary instead of astounding.

Does she even know what she’s done?

“Thank you,” Logan says. His voice cracks.

She waves her hand, looking a bit embarrassed. “Anyone would have done the same.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Logan says. “I owe you a debt.”

He’s definitely made her uncomfortable now. “Really, don’t worry about it.”

“No, it’s…” He growls, frustrated at his inability to explain himself, and feels her tense for a second. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that monsters like him scare people. Usually, he uses that to his advantage, but he doesn’t want to scare her.

“Your life is your most precious possession,” he says. Religion, at least for those who were born werewolves, is private. They don’t tell outsiders about it. And Logan was never the most devout, but even he knows this most basic tenet. “If you can’t defend it, you don’t deserve to have it. Saving someone’s life means you own it. Them.” There are grey areas, of course. Wolves are hardly solitary, they can give and receive help. But this isn’t a grey area. Mallory saved him. Most werewolves would let another die rather than take on the responsibility for their life. It’s a heavy thing to put on the shoulders of a woman barely more than a girl.

“Can’t I, um, release you from your obligation?” Mallory asks.

“My soul would be stained, if I can’t pay what I owe,” Logan says. His heart thumps in his chest, and he realizes that it’s fear. He can’t make her accept this, but if she doesn’t, he’ll be shunned by any wolf he meets. He can’t interact with other wolves if he brings the spiritual taint of a failure to fulfill a life debt. He’s hardly lived a glorious life so far, but to be so thoroughly cut off would break him. Would break any wolf.

“Please,” he says. “I’ll do whatever you ask, even if it’s to sleep on the floor and stay out of your way. Please let me serve you. Don’t send me out there alone.”

Mallory considers him for a long while. “All right,” she says eventually. “First thing you can do is lay down and let me look at your wounds.”

The wound that split him in half is now an ugly brown scab, oozing pus at the edges, but it’s not a hole with his intestines leaking out, so that’s an improvement.Mallory fetches a salve from a cabinet and rubs some into the scab. It tingles.

When she’s finished, they eat soup in silence. Logan’s spent worse nights than this one.

* * *

It takes two more days for the scab to turn into a pink scar bisecting Logan’s torso, and Mallory forbids Logan from moving from the couch the whole time. Logan does as he’s told. When she finally lets him up, he’s surprised by how much effort it takes to do normal things. Normal movements pull on the scar, making it ache, and Mallory threatens to let him bleed out if he reopens the wound on her carpet. He doesn’t believe her.

He mopes around the apartment for two more days before she deems him healed enough to be put to work. Or perhaps that’s just how long it takes her until her irritation at his sulking overrides her reluctance to order him around. He washes and dries the pile of dirty dishes that has built up in the sink. He sweeps the floor. He lets Mallory try to teach him how to cook, although she isn’t very good at it either, and most of what they make together comes out burnt.

Mallory runs a small shop on Market Street, selling potions and poultices and small spells. “Don’t touch anything without asking,” she says the first time she takes him there. The shop is claustrophobic, the ceiling almost low enough for Logan to bang his head on, and he has to move very carefully to keep from knocking glass bottles off the shelves. Mallory puts him to work moving inventory, grinding up herbs with a mortar and pestle for tonics, and even sends him to fetch lunch.

She admits to him that she stays later in the shop when he’s there than she usually would. It’s not safe for a woman, even one as powerful as Mallory, to walk alone at night, but Logan only has to growl at anyone who looks at her to send them scurrying off into the darkness. Protecting her makes him feel warm in his chest.

It’s oddly soothing, to have nothing to think about but the work he’s given, no decisions to make. Mallory tells him what to do. He feels useful. He tries his best not to be a burden to her, but she never speaks sharply to him. He dares to think that maybe she likes having him around.

On the eve of the new year, Mallory decides they’re going out. “It’s a holiday,” she says. “We should celebrate.”

Logan’s spent a lot of time in disreputable pubs, but this one is bright and clean and full of happy people. Mallory spots some she knows from the shop, frequent customers and fellow magic practitioners. They don’t look askance at Logan following her like a shadow.

“Have some fun,” Mallory says, pushing a drink into his hand. Her cheeks are already tinged pink, and her eyes sparkle like stars.

There’s laughter, and singing, and unlike basically every bar Logan has ever been to, no one starts a fight or has to be thrown out. It’s _nice._

It’s well past midnight when Logan walks Mallory home. She’s giggling drunk, leaning hard against his arm. It took him twice as much alcohol to get him as drunk as she is, but he feels relaxed and happy. When Mallory trips over her own feet for the third time, Logan sweeps her up into his arms before he really thinks about it. She’s so small and light that it isn’t hard at all to carry her back to the apartment.

He likes how it feels when she lays her head on his arm, although her flyaway hair tickles his nose.

When they get back to the apartment, he goes to set her down on her bed, but she grabs his shirt collar and pulls him down on top of her. Logan fumbles around, trying not to crush her under his bulk, and while he’s distracted, she cups his face between her hands and kisses him.

It is, objectively, a clumsy, sloppy kiss. It is also, objectively, one of the best Logan’s ever had. Mallory’s tongue strokes the roof of his mouth, and suddenly Logan’s pants feel oppressively tight.

“Oops,” Mallory says. “I wasn’t s’posed to do that.”

“Why not?”

“S’not fair, ‘cause you have to do what I say ‘cause of the life debt,” Mallory explains very seriously.

“What if I want to?”

“Do you?”

Logan answers by kissing her again.

Suddenly, the world inverts and Logan finds himself on his back on the bed, with Mallory straddling him. Her long skirt rides up around her hips, showing off firm, round calves.

“No fair using magic!” he says, but he’s teasing. Mallory grins at him and kisses him, rubbing her hips against his erection, and Logan groans into her mouth. There’s too many clothes in the way, he has to touch her now, wants to feel all of that smooth skin under his hands. He slides his hands under her shirt and rubs along her ribs and over her back.

Mallory breaks the kiss long enough to shed her shirt, and Logan takes the liberty of sliding her skirt and underwear over the curve of her ass so she can kick them, along with her shoes, into a pile somewhere on the floor. Logan pauses to admire her, the heavy fullness of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the curtain of dark hair hiding the delights between her legs. He wants to put his mouth on every part of her, lick and suck and kiss until he brings her to ecstasy a hundred times.

“It’s not fair that you’re dressed and I’m not,” Mallory says.

Well, they can fix that, although it takes a lot more effort with her sitting on top of him. At last, Logan is as bare as Mallory, and he finally gets to feel her skin against his. He pulls her down to kiss him again and lets his hands roam over her breasts, squeezing them gently, rubbing her nipples until she moans.

“Please,” Logan says. “Please, I want to taste you.” He’s entirely at her mercy, trapped beneath her, but he’s not too proud to beg.

She hesitates, a little shy, and the sight is so endearing that Logan thinks he might be falling in love.

He grabs her hips and shifts her upwards, and she gets the idea and helps until she’s straddling his face. He tilts his head back and licks between her folds, pulling her down until he can get his tongue all the way inside her. She’s dripping wet, her slickness running down his chin, and she tastes like salt and musk and something that reminds Logan of a summer thunderstorm. He licks and sucks like a man dying of thirst, and Mallory’s legs tremble as he edges her closer and closer to orgasms.

Logan is so hard it’s painful, so he reaches down and grasps his cock. The precome dribbling from the tip is enough to slick up his hand, and he jerks himself, hard and desperate, just an edge of pain to it that keeps him from coming too soon.

Mallory ruts her clit against his nose, her timidity lost to the sensation of Logan’s mouth. When she comes, she clenches her legs so tight around his head that he can’t breathe, and he jerks his cock too tight and then he’s coming too, spilling all over his hand and stomach. Still, he continues sucking and licking until Mallory comes again, until she sighs and rolls off of him and wiggles down until she can throw an arm over his chest.

“Do you want me to—” She gestures downward and then notices the pool of cooling come on Logan’s stomach. He blushes.

“I couldn’t wait,” he mumbles.

Mallory laughs and kisses him again, smearing some of her own wetness onto her face from his. They lie there for a while, kissing lazily, and Logan thinks he should get something to clean them up but lying here with Mallory is too good to stop.

He’s not stupid enough to think that this might last forever, but he’s going to enjoy it while it does.


End file.
